elve or
fifteen hundred prisoners; and, to use his own words, "sent the
Confederates whirling up the valley."

In the recoil of Gordon's brilliant charge of six thousand about noon,
we prisoners were swept along into Winchester, and then locked in the
old Masonic Hall. The sociable guards took pains to emphasize the
statement that George Washington, "glorious rebel" they called him, had
presided as Grand Master in that very room!

After several hours we heard a great noise in the streets. Looking out
we saw men, women, children, moving rapidly hither and thither, the
current for the most part setting toward the southwest. The din
increased; the panic became general; the Union Army was advancing on
Winchester!

We were hustled into the street now filled with retreating hundreds, and
were marched rapidly along the turnpike toward the setting sun. The road
crowded with artillery, army wagons, common carriages, all pouring along
in the stampede; a formidable provost guard enclosing us prisoners in a
sort of hollow column; cavalry in front, flank, and rear; the fields on
either side swarming with infantry, the whole of Early's army in
retreat, we apparently in the middle of it; Sheridan's guns still
booming in our rear--such was the scene as we two or three hundred
prisoners were driven on. Our mingled emotions can be better imagined
than described. The bitter regret that we had not been slain; the
consciousness that we had done our whole duty in facing unflinchingly
the storm of shot and shell, never retreating an inch; the evident
respect and even courtesy with which I was personally treated; the
inspiring certainty that our army was victorious, the unspeakable
mortification of being ourselves prisoners of war!--we sorely needed all
our philosophy and all our religion to sustain us.

Marching moodily along I was aroused from a sort of reverie by an
experience far too common in those days. I had been sick the night
before, and had worn my overcoat into battle. My horse was shot. The
blood was spurting from him. As he seemed likely to fall, I leaped down.
We were in the midst of a rapid advance and I had not time to throw off
my overcoat. I was now carrying it swung over my arm. It was growing
dark. A mounted soldier, whom I took to be an officer, rode up to my
side and seized hold of the coat. He said, "I want that overcoat." I
replied, "You can't have it." "I must have it." "You shan't have it." He
tugged and I tugged